Page 64 of Doctor Hot Mess

Lila was only eleven when it happened. She lost her entire childhood.

The truth is, it could be too late to fix any of us. I’m not sure there’s anything left that is fixable in me at this point. But maybe it’s not too late for Lila. Maybe if she knows they care—if they show up for once—it’ll be enough to help her pull herself together and get the help she needs.

When the call ends, I set the phone down and stare out the window. The weight of it all is still there, but so is something else—something I’m not used to. Hope. Small and fragile, and a little bitter around the edges, but there all the same.

Friday,March 6

X4Downtown BHAM

7:41 AM

I neededto get out of my place and burn off some of this energy. I’m halfway through my run, sweat dripping down my back, when I spot her.

Harper.

She’s over by the free weights, her hair pulled into a messy ponytail, a look of focused determination on her face as she does bicep curls. It’s the first time I’ve seen her since our conversation at the hospital on Wednesday, and the sight of her sends a flicker of guilt through me.

She's been trying to be there for me, but I've given her as little as possible to avoid letting her in. I've been a dick.

I slow the treadmill to a jog as my thoughts circle back to the call with Mom yesterday. The way she admitted her failures, the regret in her voice—it stuck with me.

And now, watching Harper, I can’t shake the parallel. How I pushed her away and snapped at her when she was only trying to help wasn’t so different from what my parents did to me after Dell’s death. Shutting out compassion because it's easier than facing the reality.

I step off the treadmill and grab a towel to wipe my face. My feet carry me toward her almost on instinct.

“Hey,” I say, my voice loud enough to catch her attention over the music but more timid than my norm.

She looks up, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. “Jonah. Hey.”

“You’re here early,” I say, nodding toward the clock. “You worked last night, didn't you?”

She sets the weights down, brushing her hands on her thighs. “Yeah. I got off at seven and figured I'd burn off some gas before crashing. Are you going in today?”

“No, I am off today and will be on call this weekend,” I admit, leaning casually against the rack. “Figured a run might do me good.”

She nods, but there’s a guardedness in her expression that wasn’t there before. I can’t blame her.

“Look,” I say, exhaling slowly. “About the other day. I'm sorry I've been checked out. I shouldn’t have snapped at you when you offered sane advice about how to handle this.”

Her brow furrows, and she crosses her arms, waiting for me to continue. “You were frustrated,” she says. “I get it.”

“No, it’s more than that,” I say, shaking my head. “You were right, Harper. About Lila. About me. I'm not used to being so open with another person. Worrying about my sister, wanting to help her somehow, knowing I couldn't fix it—it was just a lot. And instead of dealing with that, I took it out on you.”

She studies me for a moment, her expression softening slightly. “Jonah, I wasn’t trying to tell you what to do. I just—” She hesitates, searching for the right words. “I just want what’s best for you. For both of you.”

“I know,” I say, my voice quieter now. “And I appreciate it. I mean it.”

There’s a pause, and I feel the weight of everything unsaid hanging between us. The tension, the history, the pull I’ve been trying to ignore.

“Do you want to grab a coffee or something after this?” I ask, surprising myself with the question.

She tilts her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Are you asking because you want coffee or because you think I’ll say yes?”

“Maybe a little of both,” I admit, a hint of a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth.

She laughs softly, and for the first time in days, the knot in my chest loosens. “Alright,” she says, grabbing her water bottle. “But I’m picking the place.”

“Deal,” I say, following her toward the exit.

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